


Wishful Thinking

by LetThereBeDestiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Crushes, Dean Winchester Has a Crush on Castiel, Fluff, Halloween, M/M, Secret Crush, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 12:22:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16475483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetThereBeDestiel/pseuds/LetThereBeDestiel
Summary: Dean is on a mission. Last year, he got drunk and made out with a mystery stranger in a Halloween party. This year, he's on a search to find them. So what if he's head over heels for someone incredibly, crushingly, devastatingly perfect? ...He's never going to get what he wants if he waits for his crush to notice him.





	Wishful Thinking

The truth was, Dean didn’t like Halloween all that much. There were too many children, and too much candy-sharing (he didn’t like to share his candy), and it was hard to look sexily at a girl wearing an indecent vampire costume after he’d come home to vampire blood all over the living room carpet so many times. So he wasn’t quite sure what he was doing in some popular kid’s party for the second year in a row. Well – he didn’t know what he was doing there last year. This year, he was on a mission.

He’s been scouring the field for about forty minutes when he spotted Charlie making out with a fairy on someone else’s bed. He cleared his throat (she didn’t hear him). He tapped on her shoulder.

She detached from the girl and looked up at him, pouting at the interference. She said something inaudible to her fairy and stood up.

“Not cool, dude,” she muttered as they were walking away.

“I need your help,” Dean reasoned – loudly, as someone turned up the volume of the dubstep music in the living room. He gave Charlie a once-over. “What are you supposed to be?” She looked like some sort of a warrior queen, with rough red and brown clothes and a king’s crown.

“What are _you_ supposed to be? Mr. Making Eye Love to Cas?” She wrinkled her nose, pointing at his ragged jeans and blue T-shirt. “Oh, I forgot. That’s every day.” She snatched a ghost cookie from a nearby table as they were walking to the front of the house. Dean touched his elbow awkwardly at the mention of Cas.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about the opposite of that.”

Charlie threw her head back, her eyes widening. “A conversation that’s _not_ about Cas? Finally!”

She could be so fucking cynical sometimes. They were at a quiet corner by the front door now, and there was no one around to hear them. Not that it mattered; no one would have cared enough to eavesdrop on them anyway, but he still felt better knowing Charlie couldn’t embarrass him in public by repeatedly yelling out the name of his crush.

With a mouthful of ghost, Charlie finished her tangent. “I’ve been waiting for years.”

“Remember the 2017 Incident?” The 2017 Incident was what they called the events of last year’s Halloween party, when Dean got drunk and made out with Deadpool for a good fifteen minutes until Charlie found them and dragged him away – ‘dragged’ not being an exaggeration – to get him home before his midnight curfew.

“Of course,” Charlie said. Her voice was dry. “How could I forget.” She saved his ass from two weeks of grounding that day. He didn’t really have a curfew this year.

“I want to find him,” Dean said.

“How do you know it’s a him?” Charlie asked. “You’ve never even seen his face. All you did was shove your tongue into his mouth.” She wrinkled her nose again.

They were both wearing head masks that day – Deadpool and him. They only pulled the masks up above their noses (they were both pretty wasted, as far as Dean could tell, and neither really minded how ridiculously uncomfortable that was) – like the Spiderman kiss, only _he_ was Peter Parker, and Mary Jane was a really good kisser, and also a dude. And neither one of them was upside down. Or maybe they were both upside down. He couldn’t remember.

“Dean?” Charlie snapped her fingers in front of his face.

“Yeah,” he said, trying to remember her question. “I know the difference.”

She looked at him doubtfully, and he frowned back at her. “I’ve had both. _Trust me,_ there’s a difference.”

“Alright,” she said, pushing her crown up from her forehead. “If I help you find your mystery man, will you stop whining to me about how perfect and smart and handsome and funny and his-jawline-could-cut-a-diamond your crush is?”

“That sentence didn’t make any sense.” She glared at him. “Alright, alright. I’ll stop. If you help me. Why does my talkin’ about him bother you so much, anyway? I mean, I bet his jawline _could_ cut a diamond…”

“Dean, I’m a lesbian for a reason,” she said, and pulled him back into the crowded, noisy center of the house.

* * *

 

By ten o’clock, they had two hours of search and about one hundred interrogated people behind them. _Did you see any Deadpool last year? **Were** you a Deadpool last year? _

Nothing.

Dean found Charlie in the crowd, investigating a blond junior. He tugged on her sleeve.

“It’s futile!” He yelled into her ear. “We’re never gonna find him.” He let her go back to her fairy and left the party. It was stupid of him to try to find his mystery man anyway; what would he have done, had he found him? Forget all about Cas and ride with the guy on a magical unicorn towards the sunset? He hadn’t even thought this far. He’d just figured things would sort themselves out…

He walked down the street with his hands in his pockets, trying not to shiver from the cold. He knew he shouldn’t have left his jacket at home, but… _cool guys don’t get cold_ seemed like logical reasoning at the time.

Fuck cool guys. He was cold.

…It was stupid, and naive. Things didn't just sort themselves out.

The street was packed with kids – they were good for one thing, at least; blocking out the wind. In less than ten minutes he would be home, covered in three blankets and eating leftover candy.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Cas’ house on the other side of the road. He tried to walk past it looking straight ahead, but his eyes betrayed him. Like a magnet, the house drew his stare – and there was Cas, standing at his door with a gray T-shirt and flannel pajama pants, giving out candy to some Disney princesses and apple farmers. He wasn’t smiling at the kids or pretended to be politely interested in their costumes like most adults did, but he did give them an unhealthy and possibly hazardous amount of Mars bars. Dean didn’t realize he’d stopped and stared. The kids ran down the stairs and on their way, and Cas’ eyes rose and caught his from the other side of the road. He gave Dean a half wave, the kind that people give other people when they stare. Dean pulled a hand out of his pocket and half-waved back.

Was this an invitation for him to come over and say hi? Probably not… But Cas wasn’t closing the door or letting go of his gaze; he just stood there. So maybe this was an invitation. And what was he supposed to say? 'Trick or- well, I don't have a bag, and you don't have any treats left, so I guess your only option is trick?’ He would make a complete moron of himself.

God, whoever invented socializing should have been burned at the stake.

Cas tilted his head slightly. Dean swallowed a lump in his throat; walking away while Cas expected him to come over or coming while Cas was expecting him to walk away – there was no less-embarrassing option here if he got one of those wrong.

 _Screw it._ He crossed the street in a jog and climbed up Cas’ stairs.

“Hey, nerd,” he said when he stood in Cas’ eye level. Cas wasn't a nerd. He was a godly handsome teenager with the most brain Dean had ever seen on someone. Even in his pajamas – his pajama pants, Dean could see from up close now, had tiny cat prints on them – and with his hair all messy, he looked better than anyone else in school (Charlie would strongly disagree; she didn’t find Cas particularly alluring. But she did call him dreamy once. Dean wished he’d gotten it on tape).

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said. His voice was deep and low, like stable ground in the middle of the ocean. He gestured at Dean’s body with a hand motion. “Nice costume.”

“Oh,” Dean said, looking down at his clothes like he only now noticed he was underdressed. _Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. God, say something._

“Right back at you.”

_Not that. Say anything else. **Ugh.**_

But Cas’ lips curved up into the shadow of a smile (he didn’t really smile, ever). “You’re not going to Balthazar’s party this year?”

They were friends, he supposed. Well, Charlie called it acquaintances; they traded the occasional homework question and helped each other on school projects. But Dean has always been dreadfully nervous around Cas. (Cas wasn’t nervous. Cas was perfect.)

"I stopped by," Dean said. Did he sound casual? Probably not casual enough. He should at least try to deepen his voice; he sounded like a twelve-year-old. "Halloween parties are kinda lame, aren't they?"

"I don't really go to parties."

Dean kicked at a gravel stone with the tip of his shoe. "Right."

They stood there for a moment, drowning in awkward silence. It was horrible.

 _Just tell me to go,_ Dean thought. _Just say goodbye and shut your door. The silence is unbearable-_

"Would you like to come in? I have Portal set up…"

Dean’s eyes almost jumped out of their holes and rolled on the porch. Cas shrugged. “Unless you have something else to do.”

“I didn’t really…” Dean struggled. “Think you were the video game type’a guy.”

Cas’ eyes narrowed. “What type of guy do I look like?”

The guy who could take down three men in a fight without even breaking a sweat. The guy who would dip you into a kiss so smoothly your breath would catch (he swallowed; his eyes instinctively fell to Cas’ lips). The guy who could tell you the word of God and you’d believe him…

This was going too far. He shook his head, to chase his thoughts away. Cas raised an eyebrow, pushing his door open. The room behind him was softly lit, its heat leaking outside.

He didn’t really trust his voice, so he just nodded and followed Cas into the house. It _was_ warm. And it smelled like Mac and Cheese and chocolate.

“My parents aren’t home,” Cas explained on their way to the living room. He situated Dean on a wide sofa that he shared with a blanket and a bowl of popcorn, in front of a large, thin TV. Then he disappeared into the kitchen and came back with two mugs of hot chocolate, turning the lights off on his way to the couch.

“I was just making myself a cup,” he said, offering Dean a mug with cat ears. “I can drink yours too if you don’t want it. Just don’t tell anyone.”

Dean accepted his mug gladly.

So there he was, sitting a foot apart from _Cas,_ Cas who apparently was quite a good host (Dean always forgot to offer his guests water), and all he could think of saying was, “you really like cats.”

“Yeah,” Cas said. He took a sip from his mug and plugged in another controller, handing it to Dean.

“Do you know how to play?”

“Sure,” Dean said, and then they were quiet for a while. Cas seemed to focus on the game, passing Dean the popcorn every now and then. Dean was much more restless. He couldn’t focus on anything besides Cas’ elbow, getting closer or farther apart from his, depending on the intensity of their Portal situation. His heart was in his throat. His gaming was shit – not that he was an expert on a regular day, but this was just embarrassing – and it occurred to him that this would probably be the one and only time he’ll get to actually, truly have a non-school-related conversation with Cas.

“So, uh…” He mumbled with great wit as their characters were walking around in a room. “What- what were you last year? I mean… Did you go as anything?” God, he was a mess. He couldn’t even utter a normal human being’s sentence. He took his cup in somewhat of a shaky hand and forced himself to take a sip, to at least try and seem casual. Cas leaned in slightly towards him.

“Deadpool,” he said, not looking away from the TV screen. Dean almost spat out his drink – and, trying to keep it all inside, he choked on it. He stifled a cough.  

“Oh, yeah?” His voice came out high-pitched.

“Mhm. I was at the party for maybe half an hour. I don’t regret missing… Well, every single party except that one.” He paused and sneaked around a Turret to knock it over. Dean was hyperventilating.

“Do anything interesting?” He asked, his voice still unnaturally high. Cas threw him a glance, and he pulled on a poker face – an Oscar worthy one, in his opinion. He cleared his throat, too, for good measure.

"Not really," Cas said, looking back at the screen. "Had a margarita for the first time. Then had three more. Then, probably a series of embarrassing things I don't even remember. Got it on with Spiderman on the kitchen table." He let out a huff, as if he was thinking, _unbelievable_ , and shook his head. “Popcorn?” He passed the bowl to Dean, who only barely managed to shake his head. He stared at the screen, hoping Cas didn’t notice his eyes being as big as plates. He’s never listened to anyone so intently before, nor has he ever made such a heroic effort not to let his feelings get to his face.

"I didn't really give it a second thought back then... Which was probably a mistake."

This was too much information for Dean to absorb all at once. He had to take a moment for his thoughts to stop spinning in his head before he asked, "What do you mean?"

Cas glanced at him, and looked away. "I sort of had a... Thing, at the time."

"A thing?"

"A stupid thing. For someone."

"You had a _crush_?" Dean asked, feeling the ends of his lips curl up. The idea of Cas looking up to someone, wanting anything, and not getting it… Cas glanced at him, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Don't laugh. And it wasn't a _crush_. It didn't last long, anyway. They got a girlfriend, and I realized it was never going to happen and wished I hadn't let Spiderman go..." He frowned, like he was trying to remember something, and mumbled, “It was like making out with a Snickers bar…”

Dean’s face reddened, and he looked straight ahead at the wall. They’d stopped playing, and the controllers just rested in their hands now.

 _A girlfriend. They got a girlfriend._ Did that mean that Cas’ not-crush was a lesbian or a straight guy? Charlie got a girlfriend last winter…

“So which one of you’s…?” He didn’t finish the sentence. Cas looked at him – maybe it was in Dean’s eyes, or maybe his mind was in the same place.

“Gay?”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Definitely not him,” Cas said, and it felt like everything Dean has ever dreamed of just came true. And then Cas shifted to face him, one leg folded on the couch with his knee almost touching Dean’s thigh – almost like they were friends. _Friends._ He caught Dean’s eyes and Dean didn’t ever want to look at anything else again.

“Actually, it’s a very embarrassing story,” he said, and then smiled. _Smiled. Cas._ A small, careful smile. It looked like a ray of sun beaming through a gray cloud and bringing it to life with soft light.

“You can tell me,” Dean felt himself say. He wanted to sit there forever and watch Cas’ eyes light up like that. Like he was happy. And it occurred to him that what he was feeling was much more than just a crush. He was in deep shit. He was in deep, deep-

“It was you.”

“Me?” Dean blinked.

“My not-a-crush.” Cas played with a loose string in his shirt, looking at it intently. “But then you got together with…”

“Cassie?” Dean croaked. He was glad Cas seemed so interested in his frayed string all of a sudden – he was pretty sure his face looked like Munch’s The Scream right about now.

“Yes,” Cas mumbled. His eyes kept shooting up to Dean’s face, though mostly they just got as close to as Dean’s chest. Like _he_ was nervous. Like _he_ was having a hard time making eye contact. _What the fuck was going on?_

“I never got why you two broke up,” Cas was saying, and Dean’s brain tuned back in. Cas looked at him now, and he shook his head. It didn’t feel like a dream. Cas was sitting in touching distance, burning two sapphires into his soul (or, in the general direction of his chest, at least), and it was real. Painfully real.

“I was too in love with someone else,” he choked out to his hands. Cas didn’t say anything. Dean couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

He had no idea what to say. How do you pick up a conversation from there? His crush just told him he was over him, and currently didn’t know that they’d kissed…

 _Wished I hadn’t let Spiderman go…_ It wasn’t the sort of thing you just brought up to a guy. ‘Hey man, you know how you just said you’re not into me anymore, like, two minutes ago? Well, I've got a surprise for you, buddy. I’m exactly the person you’re both looking for and trying to avoid running into at the supermarket at all costs. Oh and, also, I’m _not_ straight. You can take credit for that.’

_Wished I hadn’t let Spiderman go._

“So… Was he a good kisser?” It was a dumb question, but it was hard to come up with small talk topics when Cas’ words wouldn’t leave his mind. (and he needed to know. For research purposes.)

“Yeah, I guess,” Cas answered. And then his head shot up, and his eyes looked like they could burn down a forest.

“How did you know it was a he?”

There were about a dozen explanations. It was Spiderman – a typically male-ish costume. And Cas had just said he wasn’t straight. Also, Dean could have seen the whole scene from aside and known it was a guy Cas was kissing.

But he just looked at Cas. He bet he looked absolutely terrified – wide-eyed and speechless, torn between telling the truth and burying himself in a sand from embarrassment. (Nonspecifically. Any sand would do.) And it didn’t help any that Cas was leaning closer to him now – as if he set his mind to sniff Dean, or to get a close enough look to be able to count all his freckles. He stopped an inch away from Dean’s face, and Dean sucked in a breath. He could taste Cas’ breath in his mouth (minty fresh).

Cas’ eyebrows rose slightly, and he whispered, “Peter?”

And Dean couldn’t help but smile. The kind of smile your whole face takes part in, and you wrinkle your lips in an attempt to stop it. Cas smiled faintly in response and leaned in a little closer – or was Dean the one to lean in? He couldn’t remember for the life of him after; it felt like he was always leaning towards Cas – and then they were kissing. Real, breathy, soft kissing. Like they had all the fucking time in the world. He hadn’t even noticed he had his fingers on the back of Cas’ neck until they broke apart and his arm stretched farther away when Cas pulled back.

“I’m no Peter Parker,” Dean said, almost in a whisper, because he had to say something. Something to let Cas know what he was getting into. He watched the light in Cas’ eyes fade a little, the light that’s still been there as though just looking at Dean sparked it.

“No, you’re not,” he answered. “But I didn’t spend hours of watching pop culture movies and struggling to understand comic book references to impress Peter Parker.”

Dean couldn’t help biting his lip. “I don’t recall you ever impressing me with a comic book reference,” he said, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt, staring into Cas’ eyes like they contained the entire Milky Way in them.

“That’s because not a single one stuck in my mind,” Cas said, and kissed him again.

“We’ll have to work on that,” Dean said into Cas’ lips. “But this… This is acceptable.”

And he thought, maybe he should give Halloween another chance. With Cas by his side, it didn’t seem so bad anymore.

Nothing seemed so bad anymore.


End file.
